


Purple, Blue, Orange, Red

by eyessharpweaponshot



Series: Bellarke Bingo [3]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke Bingo, Bellarke January Joy, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of neglect, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, One Shot, POV Bellamy Blake, Skinny Dipping, Suggestive Themes, bad home life, best friends brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22405759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyessharpweaponshot/pseuds/eyessharpweaponshot
Summary: “How did you know I’d be here?”Clarke gives Bellamy a pointed look, her blue eyes piercing him. He smirks at this, too. She always had a way of making him smile, even at the smallest of things. Her black velvet dress makes his heart drum and he has to remind himself that now is not the time to be admiring his old flame, dressed up for his mother’s funeral. ‘Inappropriate’ seemed to be a running theme in their relationship though, so maybe not a lot has changed, despite the time that has passed.Childhood friends and teenage lovers, reuniting in the midst of the same grief that tore them apart.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Bellarke Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490204
Comments: 38
Kudos: 236
Collections: Bellarke Bingo, Bellarke January Joy 2020





	Purple, Blue, Orange, Red

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song 'An Evening I Will Not Forget' by the forever talented, Dermot Kennedy. This song heavily influenced this and I've been obsessed with his music for the last while.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it. Always thankful for your support and kindness.

**2020**

Bellamy forgot how peaceful it was here.

The soft ripple of the water laps at the rock infested shoreline, wetting the small pebble stones that rest at the edge of it. Bellamy takes a large breath in through his nose, letting the minerals from the air settle in his lungs. _It smells like home._

The sun is low in the sky, dusk slowly rolling in across the lake. Sunset was always Bellamy’s favourite time of the day. The blue sky from the crisp January day is fading, giving way to intense corals, reds and pinks that drape across the clouds above him. They’re like sheets of fabric, covering the globe that contains them. Bellamy focuses on the purple hues mixing in with the blue and he marvels at the little wonders of the world. It’s a miracle he can marvel at anything right now.

It reminds him of an evening long since past, the colours transferring old memories to him like they had just held onto them for him, kept them secret until he was ready to look at them again.

He tugs his tie loose from his shirt and adjusts himself against the rocks, not really caring that the dust from the quarry is ruining his suit pants. He just wears them at funerals anyway. He’s seriously hoping he won’t have to attend another one for a long time. This is the spot for funeral afterparties, it seems.

He blows out a breath, desperate to steady the turmoil in his chest. He hasn’t been back here in a long time. It doesn’t seem to be as comforting to him as before, not when he’s here alone.

Bellamy rubs his thumb against his opposite palm, wondering how long it will take for the gaping hole in his heart to close. Maybe it never will. He probably should have asked the only one he knows to have gone through something like this.

He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even hear footsteps approaching. A body sinking down beside him makes him look up from under his curls, catching sight of the stranger.

Except she’s no stranger at all.

Bellamy’s heart drops in his chest, settling somewhere in his stomach.

_Clarke._

“Hey.”

She says it with a soft smile, sympathetic like the ones he’s been seeing all day. Her hair is short now, cut off below her chin but still as blonde as the day he met her. The only thing ensuring Bellamy that she’s really here is the warmth of her arm against his own.

He doesn’t say anything. All he can do is stare at her, take her in, mouth open a little in confusion and awe.

“I missed you at the church earlier,” she tells him, unshaken by his silence - unshaken about the fact that this is her first time seeing _him_ in ten years. Her voice rings through him and his heart breaks further at the sound of it. He forgot how much he loved it.

“I didn’t stay long,” he gets out, a slight croak in his voice. Clarke’s eyes flutter shut, like maybe she missed his voice, too. “Couldn’t bare one more person looking at me like I might shatter.”

“Well, I’m not one for sympathising in these situations.” Clarke grins, a half smile for a half joke.

Bellamy remembers that conversation in this very spot, all that time ago. He finds himself smiling too, for the first time since his mother died. He takes solace in the familiarity of this girl, being in her presence again.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

Clarke gives Bellamy a pointed look, her blue eyes piercing him. He smirks at this, too. She always had a way of making him smile, even at the smallest of things. Her black velvet dress makes his heart drum and he has to remind himself that now is not the time to be admiring his old flame, dressed up for his mother’s funeral. ‘Inappropriate’ seemed to be a running theme in their relationship though, so maybe not a lot has changed, despite the time that has passed.

He notes the scar above her knee, the one that she got from falling off her bike when they were eleven. She needed stitches and her dad was hopping mad that they had been so careless. Apparently, seeing who could flip their bike mid-air was not a suitable game for children.

“I’ve missed you,” he admits easily, not caring how he sounds in that moment. He’s emotionally raw, vulnerable, and his prefrontal cortex has shut down for the day.

Clarke makes his heart pound faster by staring at him for a beat too long. She settles it just as quick by resting her head against his shoulder, wrapping one of her arms around his bicep as if to hold him to her. “Me too.”

Together, the grief is spread out between them as they stare out to the sun setting over the quarry lake. If Bellamy closes his eyes, he can almost pretend it’s ten years ago and the pain they’re sharing is hers.

* * *

**2002**

Coming from a small town meant two things. One, everybody knew everybody else. And two, everybody knew everybody else’s _business_.

The people of Arkadia always said that Bellamy’s mom ‘struggled with the devil’. It seemed to be a well known fact. His peers repeated the phrase to Bellamy, overheard by their own parents, to the point that could be considered bullying. He eventually put ‘the devil’ and ‘vodka’ together to mean the same thing.

He took a few beatings and listened to the cruel jests for a few years. Then, he grew a couple of inches in the 2nd grade and punched Tim Bartlett for starting the taunts on Octavia, who had just started in 1st grade. Apparently, having only a sandwich for lunch that day made her liable to teasing.

It was a sandwich Bellamy had made for her himself because nothing else was in the house and their mom hadn’t come home yet. He went without food himself that day so he’d be damned if Octavia was going to be made feel worse about it all. He earned respect after that - or fear. He’s not sure which. But nobody else opened their mouth to him about anything.

Clarke Griffin moved next door before this school year begun. She instantly clicked with Octavia and now sticks close to her in school.

Bellamy hates her.

She’s just using Octavia because she’s convenient, an easy-made friend because of their location proximity. He’s sure that she’ll eventually weasel her way in with the more popular girls in school and leave Octavia alone again. She seems that type. Perfect blonde curls, pristine clothes and a bubbly personality.

She walks to school with them every single day, waiting outside their house each morning with a beaming smile for Octavia and a constant effort for Bellamy. She always says hello to him, despite how obvious he makes his disdain for her. He carries Octavia’s bag for her so he just focuses on the weight of his one and hers and does his best to ignore Clarke and her attempts to socialise with him.

After a while, Clarke starts to bring them packed lunches along with her own - something else Bellamy resents her for. He knows that the Griffin Princess is starting to figure out more about their home life, no matter how much he tells Octavia not to say anything. He doesn’t want her pity, even though she just keeps insisting that her dad just bought too much food in the grocery shop again.

Despite everything, Bellamy eats the lunches she brings them. Half because he doesn’t want to discourage Octavia from proper nutrition and half because Mrs. Griffin makes a mean tuna sandwich and Bellamy has never had fish in his goddamn life.

The final bell rings in school and he almost groans, knowing for certain that Clarke will be waiting for him with Octavia at the school gates. He supposes he should be happy that Octavia finally has a friend - but life is never that kind for them. It’s just a matter of time before Clarke ditches Octavia and Bellamy will be left to pick up the pieces, like always.

Their mom is doing better lately, home most nights and only needing two small bottles to get through the day. Bellamy doesn’t need someone like Clarke disrupting the balance, making the chaos erupt again. It makes Bellamy anxious to think about, hypervigilant of anything that might upset the dynamic in his already fragile household.

He turns the corner of the school corridor, eager to make his way out to Octavia, try to grab her before Clarke appears. That’s when he hears Griffin’s voice, louder and edgier than he’s ever heard it.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Bellamy stops in his tracks, hearing an eruption of immature giggles and a follow up sentence from Bree - one of the more popular girls in Bellamy’s grade.

“Yes, I do. And now, little Octagon Blake doesn’t have her big brother to fight her corner.”

Bellamy curls his hands into fists, anger building up inside of him. He can’t hit the girl but damn it, he can give her a piece of his mind.

He peers around the corner, seeing the long, dark hair of his sister standing by the exit doors. She has her arms folded, barricading herself off from the confrontation. It’s Clarke that grabs Bellamy’s attention though. She’s standing in front of Octavia, hands on her hips and a scowl on her expression.

"No, but she has me.”

“And what are you going to do?”

Clarke walks right up to Bree and stands on her tiptoes to reach her. She’s inches from her face, not a trace of fear in those bright blue eyes of hers - despite the bully in front of her being in the grade above, despite the height difference and despite the crowd of girls behind Bree. Clarke isn’t intimidated in the least.

“I’m going to punch you right in your stupid face if you ever talk about The Blakes or their mom again, got it?”

Bellamy can’t help the proud smirk that comes onto his face. At just 9 years old, Clarke Griffin has more balls than any guy Bellamy has ever met.

Bree narrows her eyes at Clarke but doesn’t say anything else. She scoffs, flicks her hair out and beckons to her friends to follow her, which they do. Clarke watches them go, her shoulders still tensed and her face still pinched.

Bellamy almost chuckles out loud, his chest light at the view of Octavia’s relieved face. She’s never had anyone do that for her before, except him. Clarke turns, taking Octavia’s arm as they fall out the school doors - laughing as they go.

Maybe Clarke isn’t the girl he thought she was.

Bellamy adjusts his bag and tucks his hands into his pockets, following the girls out towards the gates. It’s sunny out, the essence of summer in the air. He can almost taste the last day of school.

“Hey, Bell!" Octavia beams, breathless from laughing with Clarke.

Clarke flicks her eyes over her shoulder at Bellamy - about to say hello but it seems she thinks better of it today. Instead, she gives him a polite smile and continues walking.

Bellamy reaches out, taking Octavia’s bag off her shoulder and throwing it over his own. There’s a beat while he takes a second to assess what he’s about to do. He can’t see the down side of it. So, he reaches for Clarke’s bag and does the same, a peace offering because he owes her that much at least. She looks at him with wide eyes and an easy grin.

He guesses that having the Princess as a friend wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

* * *

** 2010 **

Even at just seventeen, Bellamy truly believes he’s fully grown.

He stands at the school gates, a cigarette between his fingers and a smile for any girl that even looks in his direction.

He enjoys the attention, the flirtation. And so he should - it’s about time he started to have something for himself. Maybe he’s allowed, considering Octavia can practically take care of herself now. She still needs him, but not like she did when they were kids. She can make her own food at this age, do her own laundry. She understands their complicated home life, doesn’t cry about it as much as before.

Bellamy was forced into adulthood at a young age, expected to step up and take responsibility of Octavia ever since he was a child himself. He can’t take all the credit, though. Their neighbours helped out a lot.

The Griffins are good people, kind - despite their money. They aren’t exactly loaded with cash but they could afford tiles in their hallway and a full fridge of food, so as a kid, Bellamy genuinely thought they lived in a mansion compared to his house.

He winks at Roma Bragg passing by and she giggles, heart eyes obvious as she stares at him. Maybe it's conceited of him but he knows he isn't ruined in the way of appearance. Bellamy’s eyes are as dark as his hair, a smoulder on his expression that he knows makes girls swoon. Strands of boyish curls wind their way around his ears and forehead and he plasters his confident smirk on his face as Roma walks away. He’s had his fair share of attention from girls - but really, he just craves it from one.

“Ready?” Clarke asks, breaking Bellamy out of his thoughts.

He smiles, eyes softening for her. He doesn’t have to play up his bravado with her - she knows him, inside and out. _The real him._

He straightens himself, pushing off the school wall and quenches his cigarette.

“You said you quit,” Octavia lectures him, her skinny frame swinging out the other side of him.

All three of them then begin their walk home, their dynamic unchanged since elementary school.

“I said I _will_ quit,” Bellamy corrects her, earning him an eye roll from Clarke and his sister.

“Dad still doesn’t know. You’re screwed when he finds out,” Clarke tells him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grins, lifting Clarke’s bag from her back and tossing it onto his own. By the time Octavia’s one is on there, he grunts with the weight. “These bags get heavier each day.”

“Maybe because you keep carrying three of them every single day like a show off,” Octavia jokes.

Clarke giggles and Bellamy’s smile widens, partly wishing that he wasn’t so far gone for her.

School is a little more bearable these days. Once in high school, Bellamy’s reputation preceded him and nobody dared to try to take him on or throw in digs about his home life - not unless they wanted a broken nose. He made friends with a couple of guys and everything felt like smooth sailing after that. Miller and Murphy are great - but Clarke will always be his best friend.

"I’ve got that Friday feeling,” Octavia sings, closing her eyes and spinning in circles on the footpath. “Let’s do something crazy tonight.”

Bellamy groans. “Let's not. It’s been a long ass week, I’m exhausted.”

Clarke shoots him a sly glance, a silent look that communicates as " _if you hadn’t been up talking with me until all hours every night, we wouldn’t be tired_." He smirks back at her and she sticks her tongue out at him. 

“We might as well take advantage of mom not being home,” Octavia reminds him and Bellamy’s heart lurches, snapping back to the conversation. There’s moments in the day that he forgets she’s gone again.

“Like she’d give a damn about what we’re doing, even if she was at home,” Bellamy mutters.

“Are you guys hungry for dinner?” Clarke changes the subject, sensing the turn the conversation is taking.

“Taco night? Are you kidding?" Octavia tucks her hands into her jean pockets. “Of course we are.”

“I still feel wrong about this,” Bellamy reminds them. “I think a week is long enough to mooch off you guys.”

Their mother had taken off last Thursday and hasn’t shown up since. Bellamy has seen her go off on a drinking binge before, sleep at whatever guys house she could while she drank herself into oblivion. It’s rare she goes through such a severe patch but when she does, it’s not pretty. It’s like Octavia and Bellamy don’t even exist in her life.

Abby and Jake had knocked on the Blake’s door once Clarke told them and insisted that they stay with them until Aurora returned. It’s not the first time they’ve stayed with the Griffins. Aurora always came back - they just weren’t sure when that would be. It wasn’t fair - but Bellamy had given up the battle of trying to have a normal childhood a long time ago. His mom had her good times - she went weeks without touching a drop. Other weeks, she might only have a couple of small bottles to satiate her urges. Weeks like these, she fell off the edge of the Earth.

At least they had the Griffins. It’s probably what kept Bellamy sane, kept him from being the delinquent he surely would have become without them. He’s not perfect, still has his issues - his bad days. There are days where he feels like he’s completely alone, struggles with insecurities and confidence. When he was younger, he would constantly compare himself to his peers, who seemed to have the perfect families and the perfect life. Lately, he just thinks that the people of Arkadia are good at hiding their dirty laundry. Every now and then, a scandal of an affair or whispers of someone’s mental health would circle the place. It's another issue with small towns - nobody wants to be honest or talk about anything. At least Bellamy and Octavia’s home lives seem like old news now: Aurora Blake never made her alcoholism a secret.

Bellamy has confided in Clarke more than a few times, told her things that he’s never told anyone, not even his sister. She’s listened, helped him understand his emotions and given advice where necessary. More than that, she’s never breathed a soul to anyone. Before, Bellamy would have hated anyone trying to interfere in his life, trying to get to know him like that. He would never have accepted the Griffins help. Now, it seems less like charity and more like friendship.

“Bell, shut up.” Clarke bumps her shoulder off his and he tries to keep the blush off his face. It’s stupid that the nickname off her lips makes his heart skip.

He’s not sure when he started feeling like this about her, when he started looking at her as more than a friend. He seemed to be knee deep in the thick of it, drowning in her without ever knowing that he stepped into the water.

It’s sunny out and Clarke has rolled her skirt up a little more, displaying more leg than usual. It makes his head feel dizzy. The light falls around her, reflecting off the golden curls that fall down her back and her white smile that seems to grow wider when she looks at him. She always shone from the inside out, struggled to deflect attention. He smiles after her, his eyes never leaving her as they walk home.

They all stroll through the door of the Griffin’s house like they belong there and the smell of spices and good food fill their nostrils. Bellamy can’t remember his mother ever cooking something so delicious.

“Smells good, mom.” Clarke plants a kiss on her mother’s cheek, sneaking a pepper from her chopping board while doing it.

"Pull up a chair, guys,” Abby says, swatting Clarke away as Octavia and Bellamy sit down at their kitchen island.

Jake comes in from work just as the tacos are being served, asking all three of them how school was. Bellamy likes Clarke's parents - they never ask too much about their mother, allowing Octavia and him to speak when they want to. Octavia unloads a lot of her concerns and worries on the Griffins and Bellamy is glad of it - glad she can let it out in some way.

Abby and Jake are good at reassuring them, protecting them. They treat the Blakes the same as their own, promising them that their door is always open for them. They scold them if their grades are dropping, set appropriate boundaries for them and expect good things from them. So, Clarke is right, Jake would be so pissed if he knew Bellamy was smoking. The old Bellamy would wonder who the hell they think they are - but now, he’s just glad. Having rules means someone cares about them, doesn’t want them to get into trouble.

Maybe they feel sorry for the two of them, or maybe they just want to help. Either way, Bellamy is more than grateful.

It’s what he thinks about while sneaking into Clarke’s room that night.

He lifts her blankets, slotting in beside her while she makes room for him. The guilt overwhelms him as he watches her set the alarm on her phone as usual, a reminder for him to return to the spare room before dawn. He feels like he’s throwing everything Jake and Abby have done for him back in their face, even if he’s not technically doing anything wrong with Clarke. _Yet._

Bellamy settles in, listens to her breathing. He knows, even in the darkness of her bedroom, that she’s looking at him. This has been the norm for the last few nights. It started off innocent, falling asleep while doing homework together late one night. Now, he’s not sure he can explain why he keeps coming back here to sleep, to talk to Clarke long into the night until their dreams take them.

“When do you think your mom will come back?” Clarke asks quietly, turning on her side to face him.

“Don’t know.” Bellamy sighs, that complicated thought mixing in with the guilt of being an inappropriate guest in the Griffin household.

“She will probably be back before school starts on Monday,” Clarke says, trying to reassure him.

“It’s a miracle we haven’t been turned in to social services by now,” Bellamy mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Silence drifts through the air for a few minutes, comfortable and soothing. Bellamy lets the worries and anxiety about his mom slip from his mind - he’s had to learn to let them go when they come, because they do nothing for him and nothing to change their situation. Instead, he just listens to the crickets outside Clarke’s open window, the gentle breeze blowing her net curtains. He listens to her moving beside him, each small shift rustling the sheets.

The Blakes were dealt a shit hand, a difficult life - but they’ve always had Clarke. Things could have been so much worse. She’s saved his life in more ways than one, but even if she hadn’t, even if Bellamy had met her years from now or in different circumstances, he thinks he’d still have fallen for her. She just has that way about her, the most unique person he’s ever met.

In these quiet moments, Bellamy is certain - knows for sure that this is the girl he will love for the rest of his life. She might not know it, but _God_ , he does.

“Remember when we used to ride bikes all the time?” Clarke whispers.

“Yeah, it’s all we ever did.”

Clarke shifts her legs, brushing off his. “They were the best days.”

“Mm,” Bellamy agrees. “The days were always long.”

“We’d stay out until curfew at eleven, talking about nothing and laughing so loud that our neighbours complained to my parents.”

“It was always too hot, made us delirious,” Bellamy remembers, getting more comfortable. Clarke has a unique ability to draw him in, make him forget that he shouldn’t be platonically sharing a bed with someone he’s falling in love with, someone he shouldn’t be loving at all.

“Summers are always too warm here. I like it.”

Bellamy smirks. “You just like wearing those blue denim shorts that still seem to fit you since the 9th grade.” It earns him a soft kick to his shins.

He remembers walking the roads at night, back when it was still safe to do so. Back before people kidnapped kids and before street lamps were necessary. Octavia would always skip along ahead, the only time she enjoyed the freedom of having a mother who didn’t care where they were. Bellamy would hang back with Clarke because she was nervous of the dark, clutching Bellamy’s hand under his jacket. He still remembers the way her touch would set his skin on fire.

They’d spend every waking moment outside, things like the internet and television not as popular as they are now. Just the three of them, fitting nowhere but together in their quaint little town.

Octavia started playing basketball in high school, meaning their group turned into a duo when she was gone training or playing games. Bellamy didn’t mind though - he was eager to spend as much time with Clarke as possible.

All of their firsts were together. The first time they drank, Bellamy had stolen a bottle of vodka from his mother’s cabinet. He and Clarke had shared it between them like it was some adult thing to do, like they were somehow grown up. Getting drunk and stupid, fun as it was, just reminded Bellamy of being a shit person, a shit parent - so that was the first and only time they did that.

They’d sit at Clarke’s island, the only light in the kitchen being the one over their head while they worked on homework. Clarke, dressed in leggings and a ratty cream cardigan, looked more beautiful than anyone Bellamy had ever seen. She would stop writing mid-sentence, sensing his gaze on her and give him a shy smile.

“ _See something you like, Blake_?” she’d quip.

" _Focus on your homework, Princess_ ,” he’d reply, a boyish and playful smirk on his face. He always enjoyed flirting with her.

“ _Take your own advice_.”

Bellamy blinks out of nostalgia, letting his eyes adjust to the faint outline of Clarke’s silhouette in front of him.

She knows every piece of him, having shared their most valuable years together. And he knows her, too - knows how she mumbles when she’s feeling insecure or unconfident, knows when she asks for one piece of candy out of his bag, she means two. He knows that she gets meticulous about cleaning her bedroom when she’s stressed in school, needing some form of control in another area of her life. He knows that when she looks at him like she is now, she’s thinking about kissing him.

Bellamy’s stomach almost aches with the butterflies fluttering around inside it. He lets the guilt of taking advantage of Jake and Abby’s kindness bleed away, ignores the fact that he’s seriously considering making a move on their daughter - on his best friend. On _Octavia's_ best friend.

_How long can they pretend that they’re still just friends?_

Neither of them seem to want to make the first move into uncharted territory so they simply exist in this state of electrified tension together, burying their feelings.

He doesn’t move to kiss her, and neither does she. The temptation of tonight passes, for now anyway.

“Let’s take the bikes out to the quarry in the morning.” Clarke breaks the tension between them with the crack of her whisper.

Bellamy clears his throat. “We haven’t ridden bikes in years.”

“Scared you’ve forgotten how?”

"Very funny, Princess.” He shoves her gently and she laughs.

“Or you know, you could always drive,” she teases, knowing that he hasn’t gotten around to getting his license yet. He’s a bit sensitive about it, considering Miller and Murphy are both driving.

“That’s it.”

He launches up, attacking her under her ribs where she’s the most ticklish. She silently squeals, trying to smother her uncontrollable laughter in the pillow. Bellamy can’t help but chuckle breathlessly, alive with glee. Clarke makes him feel giddy, no matter what bad feelings are residing inside of him, no matter how tired he might be, no matter how much worry is washing over him.

He has the upper hand right now but he always underestimates her. In a split second, she takes control, hooking her leg over his hip and pushing him onto his back. She ends up straddling him, crossing his arms over himself and holding him there. She thinks he can’t get out of this, like a little effort on his part won’t undo her work. The moonlight is shining in through her window, illuminating half her face and he can see the pride there, the smugness. He doesn’t have it in him to disappoint her. Not to mention that he can’t complain about their position right now.

She cocks her chin up, offering him her deal. “The quarry tomorrow.”

The quarry is beautiful in the springtime, the lake water reflecting the blue of the sky like a mirror. They haven’t been in a while, a place he and Clarke and Octavia used to always visit. It was their own little hideout, long since abandoned by the residents of Arkadia. None of their classmates ever went there, choosing to occupy a little beach on the outskirts of town instead. The quarry is solitary and peaceful - and Bellamy wonders why Clarke would ever think he wouldn’t want to go there.

“Fine,” he sighs out anyway, pretending that it’s some great effort but that he’s doing it for her in spite of it.

Her smile grows wider and she releases him, slipping off his waist and sinking back down beside him. He misses the contact but she stays close, pressed against his body as if for heat. As if it isn’t baking outside, even at this time of night.

“I think Octavia has a game,” she says after a minute. “Guess it’ll just be the two of us.”

Bellamy adores his sister - would kill for her. But in this moment, he’s too excited at the prospect of it just being Clarke and him tomorrow.

“I guess it will.”

* * *

Bellamy is almost embarrassed to admit that it took a little longer than it should have for him to regain his composure on a bike. Maybe Clarke was right, maybe he did forget.

She makes no effort to hide her amusement, laughing every time he wiggles the handlebars abruptly to stop himself from falling. She jumped right back on like she had just gotten off one yesterday, looking flawless and confident in the way she does with most things in life.

Eventually, when Bellamy stops being such a wimp, they arrive at the quarry. At least he didn’t forget _this_. It’s exactly how he remembers it: green pastures behind them and a massive lake swollen in the centre of a rocky shore. The sunlight bounces off the water and the heat of the day feels more intense out here, their bodies open and exposed to the elements.

Bellamy takes a large breath in through his nose, closing his eyes as he reaches his lung capacity. _It smells like home._

“We didn’t come all this way just to look at it,” he says, already removing his trainers as he looks at Clarke.

“I didn’t bring my bathing suit,” she explains.

Bellamy shrugs, in the middle of unbuckling his belt. “Neither did I.”

Her eyes flick down to where he’s tugging at his jeans before averting her eyes, like she’s still trying to pretend that she’s not interested. He’s already seen her hand though, seen how her eyes rake over him most days, seen the way she likes to flirt with him as much as he does with her.

Still, he lets her play the game.

She pinches up her face in disgust, arms still tightly folded as she looks out to the vast body of water in front of them. “There’s fish in there.”

“Scared of a couple of tiny fish?” Bellamy teases, a smirk on his lips.

“No,” she bites out, but it’s clear she is. Fish aren’t exactly her favourite animals.

“Brave Princess.” He laughs, removing his t-shirt. “Maybe it’s being naked that scares you. Didn’t think you were so shy."

That clearly does it. Clarke snaps her eyes to his, stubborn as the day he met her. She was never one to bow down from a challenge. In one swift movement, she pulls her own t-shirt over her head and Bellamy almost chokes at the sight of her. There’s a blush on both their cheeks now as Bellamy lets his eyes skim over her figure, curved and balanced and beautiful.

Her chest is still hidden by a white, lace bra and when he finally shoves his eyes up to meet hers, her eyebrow is raised as she watches him study her.

“Changed your mind, Blake? Thought we were getting in the water?”

Bellamy’s lips have barely quirked up into an impressed grin when both of them are racing to discard of the rest of their clothing, a silent competition now in place as to who can get in first.

He’s in such a rush that he barely notices how naked they both are until they’re up to their necks in the cold water, puffing out short breaths because _fuck_ , it’s freezing.

“ _Shit_!” Clarke squeals. “Why is it so cold?”

The day’s sun might be burning up the earth around them but God, the water is _baltic_.

“Don’t try to distract from my victory, Princess,” Bellamy says, even though his teeth are chattering.

Clarke’s mouth falls open in indignation, clearly under the impression that she won the race into the water. Without giving him any warning, she splashes a handful of ice water at his face.

“You’re dead,” he splutters, wiping the drops from his eyes.

He can hear her belly laughing across from him, trying desperately to swim away from his reach. He lunges after her, barely feeling the chill in the water anymore. The lake is deep under them, their legs kicking into vast openness. He’s just about reached her, following the line of her long blonde hair floating behind her when she screams.

“Oh my fucking God!” she cries, spinning in the water and practically throwing herself towards him.

“What?” Bellamy stops, staring at her wide eyed as she flails around like someone who has no idea how to swim.

“Something _touched_ me!” she screams, hysterical as she reaches him.

Bellamy throws his head back laughing, knowing that a fish probably brushed off her leg. His laughter gets stuck in his chest though when Clarke’s arms come around the back of his neck and she sticks herself to him. The heat and sensation of her bare skin against his makes his heart rate speed up, like they weren’t doing this exact thing last night. Except then, their lips weren’t inches apart and they certainly weren’t naked.

“It just touched my ankle, oh God, we have to get out,” she squeals, panic dripping off her as she glances around the water.

Bellamy can’t even hear her volume for how loud it really is, too busy holding her to him. His ears are ringing, filled with the beat of his heart. Her legs are hooked around his waist, her chest pressed against his.

It’s only then that she seems to notice their position. She slowly turns her head, eyes dropping to his lips in a second. His hands are hot on her waist and his breathing is laboured, whether that’s from trying to keep them afloat or having her this close, he’s not sure. It throws him.

He examines the thick droplets on her face, her long lashes that frame those blue eyes of hers. She’s nothing short of spectacular, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Her eyes lock on his before flitting down to his lips once more, the look in them intense and heavy.

“You can’t keep looking at me like that, Princess,” he rumbles, barely audible above the ripple of the quiet water.

“Why not?” Clarke whispers back, her nose brushing off of his.

“Because I’ll have to do something about it,” Bellamy murmurs, a breath away from her lips.

This thing has gone unspoken between them for a long time now, neither of them uttering a word to one another in case it would pull their friendship into this unknown land where neither of them know how to act or respond. Yet, here they are. Implying out loud that he wants to kiss her doesn’t feel as scary as he thought it would.

It suddenly feels necessary, a growth in Bellamy’s stomach that he can no longer contain. It has grown vines, reaching up into his chest and twisting around his heart.

_He wants her._

Judging by the way Clarke is gravitating into his space, the way she’s sharing her gaze between his eyes and his lips, she feels the same.

“Would that be so bad?” she asks, her fingers burning his skin from their place against the back of his neck.

“A little inappropriate, maybe,” he breathes.

“It’s worth the risk.”

Bellamy’s not sure who moves first but the inevitable moment of their lips coming together meets every ounce of his expectations. Clarke kisses the way she speaks, demanding and confident and difficult to ignore. He pushes her wet hair back behind her ear, keeping his hand against the side of her head as he revels in her very existence.

Clarke Griffin is like oxygen, seeping in through his pores and becoming necessary for everything in his life: breathing, growing, living.

When they break apart, it’s with a laugh. Like the relief they’re both feeling can no longer be contained. They’ve stepped into this thing with one another, the thing that’s been pulling them together for as long as Bellamy can remember. Now that he’s in it, he’s not sure he can ever step out.

They spend the day at the quarry, wallowing in one another’s company. They swim, talk, kiss and create this bubble that nobody else can infiltrate today. Bellamy feels happy, despite his mother being gone, despite not knowing what exactly will happen from here with Clarke. He’s so content that he thinks it’s a bad omen, like nothing good can stay this gold.

As the sky fades from blue to all the colours of a sunset he’s never experienced, the joy sits thick on his chest. With damp hair and sore faces from smiling, both he and Clarke sit to watch the day bleed into the night. Kaleidoscopes of colour burst through the sky - rich oranges, purples, reds and yellows that dance with one another as the sun falls.

“It’s beautiful,” Clarke observes, her head on his shoulder.

Bellamy glances down at her, pretty sure that even a sunset like this one wouldn’t top her beauty.

“You know I’m in love with you, right?”

He can’t not say it, any fear or doubt or care vanishing with the days sun. Clarke’s head lifts, her eyes connecting with his with wonder. Maybe his confession should have been spoken more delicately, thought about more - but in this moment, Bellamy can’t seem to regret blurting it out.

He catches a brief smile on her lips before she reaches up, capturing his lips in another kiss that is sure to be the end of him. Inside his chest, his heart hasn’t stopped racing all day.

“I love you, too,” she whispers against his lips.

The smile that spreads across Bellamy’s face in that moment makes his face ache. God, this girl is something else.

It’s dark by the time they return home, their connection forever changed.

When Bellamy stops his bike outside Clarke’s house, he notices a light on in his kitchen next door. He exchanges a quick glance with Clarke who seems to be coming to the same realisation as him: his mother is back. The old shadow that likes to ruin every good feeling in Bellamy’s life returns, covering his chest and good mood. Clarke parks her bike against the wall of her house and gives his hand a quick squeeze, a silent reassurance that he knows where to find her - that she’ll leave her window open for him to climb through later like he has many times before.

She knows he’ll need to talk after his mother feeds him the same bullshit that she gives him every time she comes back: " _things will be different now, I’m quitting, I’m going to be here all the time, I’ll be the mother you deserve_."

She tries, for a while. Bellamy knows the routine. Maybe the kicker of it all is that each time, Bellamy truly believes that this time will be it.

He presses a quick kiss to Clarke’s cheek, lingering there like he’s drawing as much strength as he can from her. Then he turns, heading towards his front door with Clarke watching him as he goes.

At least the argument will be out of the way by the time Octavia comes back from her game.

* * *

A week passes.

A week of calm in Bellamy’s house, which is probably worse than the chaos that has been a constant resident there his whole life.

His mother promised him that this is it, though - that she’s done with drinking. Octavia rolled her eyes, told her she’d believe her when she saw it for herself. Bellamy said nothing at all.

He fought with her mother the night she came back, told her that she needed to start thinking of them - that they need her here, even if she’s drinking. He told her he could look after Octavia but if anybody came looking and there was no proper adult in the house, they’d be taken away. The Griffins couldn’t keep raising her kids for her.

After that, Bellamy remained silent. He had said his piece. He brooded quietly, felt anxious in silence at the thought of his mother slipping up again.

In between that, he took solace in the arms of the girl next door. He climbed up onto the roof and slipped in through her window most nights for nothing more than her company. Clarke listened, like she always did. She provided him comfort, a peaceful place to fall asleep. In return, he kissed her like the world was ending. He transpired every ounce of love he had for her through their lips. When all else failed, he still had her.

Bellamy rubs his eyes as he waits outside his gate for Clarke, the sun peaking over the town as it starts to rise. He’s exhausted, sure that it was well after 2am before they fell asleep last night. He smiles as he remembers how their kisses heated up, a familiar tingle in his stomach rising as he thinks of biting her lip and earning a moan from her for his efforts.

“What are you smiling about?” Octavia yawns, coming up behind him.

Bellamy takes her bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he yawns himself, infected from hers.

“Nothing.”

He feels a bit bad for lying to her, for keeping this a secret from his sister. She’s Clarke’s best friend. He doesn’t want her to feel like Bellamy stole Clarke or that they’ve been sneaking around behind Octavia’s back. Technically, they have. But he’s not sure what they are, yet. Maybe he’ll talk to Clarke later about it.

“There’s nothing to be smiling about,” Octavia complains. “Monday’s are the worst.”

“Good morning, you two.” Jake Griffin waves to them as he sets his travel cup of coffee on top of his car next door.

“Morning, Mr. Griffin,” they say in time with one another.

“Another week closer to summer.” He smirks, sensing their tiredness.

Bellamy automatically feels guilty, knowing that he only slipped out of his daughters room an hour ago.

“Still too far away,” Octavia groans, leaning back against the gate.

“How’s your mom doing?” Jake asks, seemingly more directed to Bellamy.

“Fine, for now.” Bellamy shrugs. Jake must see the look of worry on his face.

“Have a little faith,” he tells him with a genuine smile, kind as always.

Bellamy nods appreciatively, a tight lipped smile on his face. It grows when he sees Clarke come out her front door, eyes tired but still beautiful. She comes down her porch steps, flicking her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and presses a kiss to her father’s cheek.

“Bye, dad.”

“Have a good day, sweetheart.”

All three of them walk to school as the sun rises, chatting and complaining about their day ahead. It’s so normal, except for the secret looks that Bellamy gives to Clarke. Catching her eye makes the butterflies take flight inside of him, _every damn time_ , like a gunshot goes off in his stomach to startle the winged creatures out of their dormancy.

He craves kissing Clarke now, always needs more of it - like his own personal addiction. When he’s not with her, he’s thinking of her. In class, even though she's not there, she distracts him from the book he’s reading. Images and memories of his lips on hers cloud his ability to focus in school entirely.

It’s a completely typical day, until Octavia finds Bellamy between classes. They're standing in the corridor when she pulls him to the side, away from Miller and Murphy's ears.

“Any word from Clarke?”

Bellamy pinches his brow together. “No, why?”

Clarke is in every single one of Octavia’s classes. Why is she asking him this?

“Her aunt Simone collected her from school earlier, said she was needed at home.”

A sinking feeling falls over Bellamy, a pain erupting in his chest. _Something is wrong._

“Shit,” Bellamy breathes. “Maybe we should go, too?”

Octavia nods quickly, probably feeling the same worry that he is. So, they ditch their last few classes and speed walk the entire way home.

The heat is dead in the air, making everything about this day feel uncomfortable. The sun is nowhere to be seen and there’s an anticipation of thunder in the air, like something about today needs to break.

Bellamy recognises the Lightbourne’s car outside the Griffin house, Abby’s sister and her husband. Other than that, the neighbourhood is totally ordinary.

He thinks bad of just walking into her house, even though it’s like a second home to them. Whatever is going on is obviously a family matter. Instead, he beckons Octavia into their own house so they can think of what to do. He’s worried about Clarke, the bad feeling only multiplying since he first heard that she was taken out of school.

When they walk inside, their mother is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee between her fingers. Bellamy’s not sure if he’s ever seen his mother with a cup of anything that wasn’t alcohol related in his entire life.

“Mom?” Octavia must notice the oddness of this sight as much as him.

Their mom looks surprised to see them home, unprepared even. She stands, fidgeting awkwardly as she stares at them wide eyed.

“You’re home early,” she states.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy asks, unable to shake this feeling inside his chest.

He knows before his mother even opens her mouth that something is really wrong here. She takes a breath, the air buzzing around them. She gestures to the kitchen chairs, a softness in her tone like Bellamy has never heard.

"Sit down."

“Mom, you’re scaring me,” Octavia says warily, pulling out a chair.

Bellamy watches the way his mother bites her lip as they sit, observes how uncomfortable and sad she looks. It’s not alcohol related - he knows that much. He’s seen her in withdrawal before, seen her drunk and everything else in between. This is different though and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think it looks like grief.

“Mom?” he pushes, needing to know.

Their mother leans forward, taking a hand of theirs each in hers. Bellamy’s chest is rising and falling deeply now, a hot flush creeping up the back of his neck.

She takes a breath, gathering herself. “Mr. Griffin had an accident at work.”

Bellamy can’t talk, already knows from the entire vibe of today that it isn’t good. His mother’s eyes are glassy, like she’s already devastated.

“Is he okay?” Octavia asks naively, urgency in her tone.

Bellamy’s eyes have already fallen shut. _He's not._

“No, sweetheart,” his mother cracks out quietly.

The implication lies flat around them. Looking at Octavia, Bellamy sees her bottom lip starting to quiver. Their mother’s tears have already started to fall. No matter what, she knows what the Griffins have done for her children, knows how much Bellamy and Octavia depend on them.

Bellamy feels numb. He knows without his mother even saying it that Clarke’s father has died but it doesn’t feel real. He just seen him this morning.

“Bellamy,” his mother squeezes his hand, probably to focus his attention.

He can’t, though. As fucked up as it is, regardless of Bellamy’s relationship with his daughter, Jake Griffin was like a father to him. Still, he can’t let himself process that. Can’t let himself be upset because all he can think about is Clarke.

He stands abruptly, listening to Octavia’s sobs and his mother’s calls to him as he races out of the house. He practically jumps off his porch steps, checking Clarke’s house quickly for her bike. _It’s gone._ He knew she wouldn’t stay there, couldn’t exist within the four walls of that house and live with that news when it’s so raw.

Bellamy’s heart is belting out of his chest as he grabs his own bike, skidding out of his gate and down the road as fast as his legs will take him. The grief pours over him like hot water, making his t-shirt stick to the back of his neck. He pumps the pedals quickly but it still feels like the longest ride of his life.

It seems like a decade before he reaches the quarry. Dust rises under the wheels when he skids to a stop, panting as he spots Clarke’s blonde hair in the centre of the rocky shore. He knew she’d be here, knew she’d run. It’s exactly what he would do, where he would have come. She’s just sitting there, staring out at the water.

Bellamy was in such a hurry to get here, but now, he takes slow steps over to her. She doesn’t even move her head when he sits down beside her.

When he checks her face, the mascara under her eyes is smudged but her expression is stoic, like she has given up crying hours ago. Her complexion is paler than normal and her eyes are hard, unforgiving.

He sits with her for a few minutes, listening to the birds chirping around them, oblivious to the agony within the humans below. The water ripples sound soothing but they do nothing to calm the storm inside Bellamy’s chest.

“Clarke,” he murmurs eventually, hoarse and uncertain. “I’m so-”

“ _Don’t_.”

Her tone is sharp, cutting him off. He sucks in his bottom lip as he examines her features, desperate to take away the pain that he knows she’s feeling.

“If I hear one more person say that they’re sorry, I think I might scream.”

“Okay,” he says softly, eyes still on her.

“What kind of shit is that anyway?” Clarke’s gaze moves across the water, but never to him. “It’s just something people say, the done thing. It doesn’t make anybody feel any better. Doesn’t make anybody less gone.”

“I think sympathising with those left behind is a worldwide tradition,” Bellamy states, mainly because he’s not sure what else to say.

“It’s a shit tradition,” she mutters, squinting underneath the harsh light of a sun that isn’t visible.

Bellamy looks out to the water, where only last week, he kissed Clarke for the first time. When everything felt blissful, when the world couldn’t touch them. Instead of colourful sunsets and exhilarating kisses, this is now their reality. The skies are grey, overcast as if they’re trying to match the mood down here. The air is humid, making it feel difficult to breathe properly.

Bellamy’s not sure how long passes, both of them sitting there in silence with grief between them. A rumble of thunder can be heard somewhere in the distance.

“It doesn’t feel real,” Clarke chokes out, her voice sounding dangerous after it being quiet for so long. Like it will somehow alert something to their existence, like they were trying to be silent for the sake of survival.

“I know.”

Bellamy checks her again. Her eyes are softer now. She finally looks at him and it seems to break her.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” She shakes her head and fuck, Bellamy’s heart cracks in two.

When the first tear falls from her eyes, Bellamy takes this as his cue to hold her. He wraps his arm around Clarke, bringing her closer to his chest as the sobs release from her body in thick waves. She feels so small against him and he feels so helpless.

What can he do? He can’t take this away, can’t change what’s happened. He can’t even do it _for_ her. All he can do is sit here with her as she mourns the death of her father.

And so they sit there until the day grows black around them, inside their own private nest in this world - somewhere that holds all their happy memories, and now this too.

* * *

** 2020 **

Their old life slips through Bellamy’s mind in slow motion. He focuses on Clarke’s arm wrapped around his, her head on his shoulder and he closes his eyes.

Ten years is a long time, yet here they both are.

He thinks about her often and is still pretty sure that he’s never loved anybody else like he loved her. Their romance was short lived, cut short by Jake’s death. They never did get back on track after that. Clarke took it hard and eventually ended up isolating herself. She stopped turning up for school, stopped seeing Octavia and Bellamy, stopped coming outside at all.

In the end, Abby had no choice but to move. They couldn’t keep existing in that house, not without Jake. Bellamy understood - knew they both needed a fresh start. Still, as the moving truck loaded their entire life into the back of it that day, Bellamy couldn’t help but grieve in a different way.

He had already lost the only father figure he ever had, only to lose the love of his life and his best friend a while later. Clarke was the most intense presence to have ever existed in his life, something he searched for in every other person since.

The Griffins moved to Sanctum, a town a few hours away where the Lightbournes lived. They kept in contact for a couple of months afterwards, texting every now and then. Eventually, though, communication died out.

The Blakes probably reminded Clarke of her old life, one where Jake existed, and she couldn’t keep reliving it. Octavia never understood that, but Bellamy did.

To break away from her wasn’t easy. Bellamy felt like he lost Clarke that day as much as Jake. The only good thing to come from his death was his mother’s sobriety. It seemed to be the kick she needed - knew she had to step up and finally be there for her children. She was sober until the day she died.

“I'm surprised that we’ve been sitting here for a complete half an hour now and you haven’t reached for a cigarette,” Clarke teases.

“I quit,” Bellamy tells her, proud. “After your dad died.”

Jake would have killed him if he knew and it felt dishonourable to keep doing it after he was gone. Clarke squeezes his arm, like she knows this is why he did it. It’s quiet for a few minutes after that before Clarke speaks again.

“I think about you all the time,” she murmurs. “I always meant to come back, you know.”

Bellamy drags his eyes across the lake in front of them. He’s not sure how to respond. He spent years in different women’s beds, searching for Clarke in each of their souls. He never found her. She made an everlasting impression, one that was unparalleled to any other person. It’s hard to live up to somebody like her, so no relationship of his ever worked out.

Considering there’s no ring on her finger, Bellamy figures that something similar went on in her life. He thought about reaching out a million different times but the more the years dragged on, the less he knew how.

“Shit got busy,” Clarke continues. “Life took over. It didn’t strike me how irrelevant everything was until I heard about Aurora.”

“It’s fine, Clarke,” Bellamy says honestly, although there’s a little bitterness in his tone. She left him - but he can’t blame her for that. Maybe what he’s resentful over is the fact that she never came back. Even after all this time.

“I’m sorry.” She pops her head up, crushing him with how beautiful she looks.

He’s pretty sure he never fell out of love with her. It was merely forgotten as grief took prominence. Her apology reminds him of one simple fact: she’s here _now_. She did come back.

“I could have reached out too, you know,” he gives her, desperate to erase the guilt she’s feeling. And it's true, he could have tried much harder.

She smooths out the creases on the arm of his shirt, a soft smile on her lips as she scans his face.

“What?” he wonders.

“You’ve just never changed at all,” she comments. “Except for this.” She brushes her hand against the beard on his face, sending shivers down his spine.

He chuckles softly, wondering how this girl can still make him feel like he’s flying on the worst day of his life.

“How is Octavia doing?” Clarke asks.

“As well as can be expected.” Bellamy shrugs. “She’s married now, you know.”

“Really?” Clarke’s eyes glisten, widening in interest. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Lincoln. He’s a good guy.”

“He must be if you approve of him.”

Clarke giggles and Bellamy dips his head, laughing along with her. God, he’s missed her.

“And your mom, I heard at the funeral that she has been sober for years.”

”Yeah.” Bellamy nods proudly. “She did good.”

Clarke gives his arm a shake, like she is truly happy about that.

“How about your mom? How is she?” he wonders.

“Good.” Clarke nods. “Focuses on work a lot.”

He nods back. Part of him is desperate to ask her more: what Clarke does for work now, what she does in her spare time, who her friends are now, if she’s dating anyone.

There’ll be time for that though and it’s not something he really can let himself focus on at the moment.

“We should probably get back before it gets any colder,” Bellamy says after a beat, noting the chill of the January air.

“Maybe a few more minutes?” Clarke tries, that look in her eyes that he could never refuse.

He nods gently and she resumes her position, head on his shoulder as they gaze out to the setting sun. Bellamy’s heart is split in two over his mom, yet having Clarke here makes it that little bit more bearable.

“How long until you have to head back home?” he hears himself asking, voice rough across the cold breeze.

The thoughts of her leaving for Polis again makes him feel a little sick. He’s only barely had her back a hot minute and he’s already losing it.

Clarke shrugs as much as she can in her position. “Maybe I’m already home.”

Heat flashes across Bellamy’s heart. He rests his head on top of Clarke’s, the pieces of his heart slowly knitting back together.

And just like that, the world seems a little more right again.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of [Bellarke Bingo](https://www.bellarkebingo.tumblr.com) and I'm crossing off the tropes _best friends brother, childhood friends_ and _mutual pining_ from my bingo card with this one. You can find all of my bingo fics [here](https://eyessharpweaponshot.tumblr.com/post/625259821279690752/my-bellarke-bingo-fic-guide).
> 
> It was also written for [Bellarke January Joy](https://bellarkejanuaryjoy.tumblr.com), my second entry for this event. Thank you so much to Essie for running it.
> 
> You can find me both on [tumblr](http://eyessharpweaponshot.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/eyessharp100). As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated 💛
> 
> You can find the [aesthetic](https://eyessharpweaponshot.tumblr.com/post/190492536529/purple-blue-orange-red-a-bellarke-modern-au) for this fic here.


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